Along the Way
by jkloe
Summary: Rachel's ordeal only really begins after the end of the episode "On My Way".
1. Chapter 1

Ah, Glee, you finally managed to make me a writer. After "On My Way" I just had to get this out. Felt like this was exactly the kind of story you wanted us to write during the hiatus.

So I've _just_ signed up to . I don't have a beta-reader and I'm not even a native speaker, so please help me fix any mistakes.

And Fox/Ryan Murphy/anyone else who actually holds any rights to Glee: If you read this, please be kind. I'm not trying to steal your property or make any money of your characters. Just trying to get out of my head what you put in there.

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><p>They're all looking at me like I'm being crazy. Like I should just get over it and get married without her in attendance. How can they even expect that? Now that I've finally convinced her that I mean it, that Finn is the one for me and will be forever and ever. Now that she has finally agreed to grace my big day with her presence. It wouldn't even be fair to go ahead without her now, don't they see that?<p>

But it's not really even about that. Even before, the only thing that could make me doubt my decision was the thought that she might not be there for the event. I cannot imagine looking back on my wedding day and having no memory of her face when I say "I do", her voice wishing me all the best, her joining our wedding dance with Puck or Mr. Shu or just anybody, as long as I get to exchange our special kind of supportive glances with her over Finn's shoulder.

I don't think I can do it without her, but now it's suddenly "now or never", and I'm on the brink of a panic attack. And she still hasn't responded to my texts. "Do you think something might have happened to her?" Everyone is looking at me even more weirdly. "Rachel, Quinn may just not really want to watch the two of us get married." Is Finn really trying to sound reasonable? He doesn't get it at all. Quinn and I, we have become actual friends, we share a kind of understanding that, honestly, I don't even have with him. She would never just bail on me like this. She wouldn't.

"But we're losing our slot. Rachel, you gotta decide now." I know, I know. But I can't. Everyone's looking at me expectantly. Finn: urging. Kurt: confused. Santana: OK, she's always sarcastic. Mercedes: She obviously doesn't understand. I have been going on and on about how Finn and I are meant for each other, how I'm ready to start the rest of our lives together. This is the fairytale wedding I have been dreaming of ever since I can remember. And now I'm suddenly going to forsake my chance just because Quinn is not here? Quinn, my torturer since freshman year, the woman who has always tried to keep me from my man. I suppose it does sound crazy. But that doesn't stop me from feeling absolutely torn right now.

I cannot decide this. Not right now. I need more time. Just until she answers. She'll be here, I know it. Maybe not. Not in time. "Rachel!" Finn is tugging on my arm. And suddenly I'm in the hallway, with everyone crowding behind me. Finn is still leading me. And I'm looking at my phone every second. Every half second. Why doesn't she answer? This can't be happening. It's all wrong.

Then we're at the Justice of the Peace's office. I don't want to go in there. I won't. Oh god, I think I'm starting to cry. But Finn has already opened the door.

We _have_ rehearsed the ceremony, so it seems I am able to keep up without being consciously aware of my surroundings. I still peep down at my phone every chance that I get, though. Still, when it suddenly does go off, it's a shock. I'm on my knees immediately to retrieve the dropped device. "Quinn! Where are you? Why didn't you answer? Please hurry! Quinn! Oh my god, we had to start without you, I'm so sorry – " And there they are again, the tears in my eyes. I'm shaking, even my voice sounds all squeaky.

But the voice on the other end isn't Quinn's. It's a male voice, sounding forcedly calm. "Miss, calm down, Miss. You really need to calm down before I can tell you this." My mind goes blank at that. "Rachel? What is it? Rachel, you're white as a sheet." Finn is kneeling next to me, holding the hand that isn't clutching the phone. "I'm calm now", I whisper into the phone, betraying my true feelings with a trembling exhalation.


	2. Chapter 2

How I got to the hospital I don't know. I think at some point my dad took over the phone and got all the information we needed from the helpful man at the crash site. But I'm here now, that's all that counts. Looking at what's left of Quinn Fabray. No! I can't even think that way! She'll be fine again, she simply has to. It cannot end this way, smashed by a car because she agreed to attend my wedding and tried to respond to my stupid texts sent in a stupid panic about absolutely nothing. I did this. I'm responsible that she's lying in this bleak room, with a tube in her nose pumping oxygen into her lungs, IV lines running on maximum to replace the blood she lost in the accident and during the operation. Her face is all bruised and swollen from the impact of the air bag, but I know that is hardly the worst of it. Her face will heal – if the rest does. _If_ … I can't even think about it. Please Quinn, don't die. Don't.

It's too early to tell, the doctors say. Smashed bones, head injuries, internal bleeding. Any of those could cause more trouble down the line. For the moment, they have her breathing. That probably counts as a good sign. Her face, though. I know it's far from the worst of it, but it's so symbolic. Her beautiful, angelic face – the face of a girl who went through the ringer and came out a successful woman ready to enter Yale – is a broken ruin now. Bandages all around her head, over the nose and one eye. The other one looks black with bruising. A salve covers what is visible of her skin, to help heal all the little cuts. I broke the one thing that was truly beautiful in my life, and now all I can do is sit by and hope that the doctors will be able to make her OK again.

Please, God, make her OK again. I won't ever ask for anything else again. Not NYADA, not nationals, certainly not Finn. Oh my god, wanting him is what ruined everything in the first place. I won't even ask for Quinn's forgiveness. In fact, please make her yell at me for doing this to her, please make her hate me for it as long as I live.

The door creaks open, Mrs. Fabray is back from her coffee break. Even dragging around a whole wedding party – it makes me sick to think of _that_ now – we arrived at the hospital before her, while they were still operating. I was so glad to see her, to know that finally someone would be told what was happening. I suppose I owe her for passing on that information. She didn't have to, after all I'm the one who put her daughter in that ICU bed. But Judy Fabray has been nothing but kind to me. Even now she's kind, putting her hand on my shoulder and telling me to go home. "There won't be much change anytime soon, the doctors say. I know you need to talk to her, but I promise to call you as soon as she wakes up." It's a kind promise, and it puts tears in my eyes again, but it's not enough. I don't know why, but I need to sit beside Quinn, I need to watch her broken face and monitor her every breath. "Please, Mrs. Fabray …" That look in her eyes! I recognize that. She looks exactly like I feel. Like we both broke along with Quinn. Of course she would have, she's her mother. Me, on the other hand … "Mrs. Fabray, I know it's not my place, but would you allow me to come by again tomorrow?" That kind look again. "Go get some sleep, Rachel, and tomorrow, you can bring me my first coffee as soon as you come up here."


	3. Chapter 3

The morning coffees become a routine, as become the shared looks of hope and fear every time even the slightest detail in Quinn's breathing pattern changes. I hear many a story from Quinn's childhood, about a time when little Lucy couldn't have cared less about her peers' opinions. I always picture a tiny version of Quinn as I know her, athletic, blonde, and with a strange kind of dignity that makes her seem older than she is. I want that back. I want my Quinn back so badly; it feels like I'm breaking inside. How could I have caused the world to lose something this precious?

The doctors become more confident every day – Judy lets me sit in on their visits. "She should be out of danger now", Dr. Miller says on Thursday. "If nothing unexpected happens …" When I tell my dads, they smile at me gently. "That's great", Daddy says. "You know, honey, we've been thinking. We get that you feel responsible and that you needed to know that your friend will live. But we feel like it's time for you to get back to your life. Now that Quinn seems alright, maybe you should get back to school on Monday." It's not like I haven't been dreading this moment. Leaving Quinn's side is bad enough, but having to go back to school? I'll see Finn there, and everyone else from Glee, everyone who knows how my selfish behavior put Quinn's life in danger. I try to argue with my dads, but to no avail.

So on Monday, I'm walking the halls of McKinley High again. My phone's on mute, but I'm hoping to feel a distinctive buzz any moment. Judy renewed her promise to call me as soon as Quinn wakes up, and it can't be long now. Finn's at my locker, a red rose in hand and puppy dog look in his eyes. He never once made it to Quinn's bedside, but he's here now, trying to salvage our relationship. It almost makes me sick. "Listen, Finn, it's because of us that Quinn almost died. So every time I look at you, I see her bruised face in that hospital room. I just can't do this right now." And I don't look at him again while I collect my books and walk away.

Glee isn't nearly as bad as I feared. Everyone's enquiring after Quinn and genuinely happy to know that she'll probably make it. It's Santana and Brittany who offer to come with me to the hospital after school, which shouldn't surprise me, given that they're Quinn's best friends, but it does, because it also means spending time with me. Their presence brightens the room considerably, as they joke around and threaten to post pictures of Quinn's current state on facebook if she doesn't wake up soon. Even Judy can't hide a small smile at their antics, and when they're gone she tells me that she's happy her daughter has such true friends.

I suppose they are. True friends, that is. Me, on the other hand, I'm only here because of guilt, because it was my texts that put Quinn here, my stupid wedding. "Rachel", Judy's hand is on my shoulder again. "That includes you, too. It means a lot to me that you're staying by her side, and I'm sure she'll be happy to hear it, too." No, she won't. What right do I even have to be here? I've always been Quinn's nemesis, deserved everything she threw at me in her less happy days. Look at me: I took her place in the spotlight, took her man, I nearly took her life.

How did I start blubbering like this? Judy is patting my back, stroking my hair, making soft shushing sounds. I don't deserve her empathy! I'm out of my chair, crying in a corner. "Judy, I'm not Quinn's friend. I never was. We may have brought out the best in each other, but that was through antagonism, never friendship. I don't deserve to be here, not even to try and right what I did wrong. I don't deserve anyone's friendship!"

"Yes you do." The voice is weak, battered, almost too soft to be heard. And yet it's unmistakably Quinn's. I can hardly swallow. Is she really awake? The eye-patch has been removed some days ago, yet still it is hard to tell if her eyes are open. "Rachel …" Her hand is lifting, just enough for me to wrap my fingers around it. Judy has once again done the adult thing and fetched the glass of water that has been standing untouched on Quinn's bedside table. Her voice sounds less parched when she's taken the first tentative sip. "Rachel." She still doesn't open her eyes, and after a while she's breathing very regularly again, and I know she's gone back to sleep. Still I cannot let go of her hand. I think I should, but just trying to lift my hand so I can slip it out from under hers – it makes me all the more aware of the warmth of her hand in mine, makes me marvel at her instinct to reach out to me of all people.

She said I deserve friendship. She said my name. She must be delusional. But then I look at our linked hands, at her beautiful face, shining through the bruises, and my heart just swells. She said I deserve friendship. And I know that nothing would make me happier than her looking me in the eye and meaning it.

It's almost eleven when Daddy comes to collect me – "you have school tomorrow" – and my hand is still trapped under Quinn's. The doctors have come and updated their prognosis and gone, and Judy has gone out for coffee and returned, and still I can't let go of Quinn's hand. Judy finally slips her hand in there, and again it reminds me that she's her mother after all, and I'm a horrible person for hogging what little amount of attention Quinn is able to give at the moment. Still, on the ride home I can talk about nothing but how Quinn said my name.

She wakes up more often during the following days. Rarely for more than two sentences at a time, and she still doesn't open her eyes. But once the breathing tube is finally removed, her voice sounds less parched, and even the perpetual grogginess seems to lessen. Finally, one day I can tell that she's awake when I enter. Her eyes are closed, but she's holding Judy's hand, and there's something about her breathing pattern that I've come to recognize. She seems to have heard my footsteps, too, because she groans and blinks. I'm at her side in a heartbeat. "Don't. Quinn, don't strain like that, I'm here, it's alright." "Rachel." Still nothing but my name, and still the most beautiful sound in the world. But this time, it's accompanied by the most beautiful sight. Her eyes are still as golden as I remember them, as full of her soul. "Rachel. You're here." "She's been here every waking moment, darling", Judy supplies, and Quinn's look … it's too much. "It's my fault", I croak, needing to get it out before I start to believe the message in Quinn's eyes. I don't deserve that thankfulness, that … Whatever it is, and however much I would like to believe it, I don't deserve it. "Quinn, you were hit by a car because I distracted you with stupid texts." It's like I can see the memories flooding back: her eyes closing again, the crinkles forming on her forehead. Then she's looking at me again, expression pained. "I so wanted to be there." "I know, and I all but refused to go through with it without you." One quick glance. "So do I congratulate you?" Oh my goodness! No! "No. No, it's … Wow, so much has happened since then." I look at the beautiful woman who is finally returning my gaze again, and I feel like everything I ever had with Finn pales in comparison. "Look, when they found you after the accident, they also found your phone with the number you'd been trying to text. So we knew even before Judy. That kind of stopped the wedding."

I allow myself a lopsided grin and see it mirrored on Quinn's face. But I also see the question. "And after, I really didn't have much time to worry about him, what with worrying about you all the time." "You should have. He's still your fiancé." Is he? "I don't know. It's complicated. Anyway, right now, there are way more important things on my mind. Like getting you back on your feet." I see her resign to that, at least for the time being, as she closes her eyes again. Her forehead is smooth, her breathing even, and I still haven't been expelled from her side.

She continues to put up with me even after that, arguing that it wasn't my fault, that she was the one running late, the one who had it in her power to not text and drive. While that doesn't make me feel better about the accident, it does finally convince me that Quinn has forgiven everything and genuinely values my company. So I continue spending my afternoons with her.

At first, I do my homework while she's sleeping, but the better she gets, the more she's awake. I don't get much work done when she's awake, because I will just sit there and watch her, even if she's still too tired to talk much. But as soon as she catches on, she insists that I don't fall behind at school. "It'll be hard enough for me to catch up, even _with_ you there to tutor me." I just smile indulgently at that, but inside, I'm jubilating again. She's assuming that we'll be spending time together even after her impending release!

Quinn will soon not need the hospital anymore. She'll still need lots of rest, and even after she's over the whole sleeping-too-much phase, she'll probably need a wheelchair until her legs – hopefully – start working again. But she doesn't need constant supervision anymore. Actually, the doctors have asked me to start catching her up on everything that's been going on while she was in hospital. And I have. I've told her of new topics we've been covering in class – never noticed before how many courses we share –, I've shared Coach Sylvester's latest antics. I've even taken to singing our latest Glee selections to her, mostly because I do not have the time to practice at home nowadays. I have to admit, though, that I kind of like the admiring look in her eyes when I manage complicated harmonies in the first run-through. The first time I sing a lullaby for her, I make it seem a joke, but the smile that stays on her face during the following nap is so heartwarming, it quickly becomes a routine.

There are quite a few routines for us now: Judy's coffee, catching up with the doctors' orders, physical therapy, hosting visitors, the homework, the anecdotes, the lullabies. Amazingly, none of that changes when Quinn is finally released home. My first order of business is still bringing Judy her cup of coffee and hearing her medical news. Sometimes she joins me at Quinn's bedside in her home office for a while, but once we start talking about school, she usually leaves and only returns to offer some cookies or later dinner. I'm the one who wheels Quinn around in her chair, monitors her exercises, does homework with her, even starts her back on some simple vocal runs. We become inseparable.

So when one day, Quinn makes our usual stroll through the park all under her own power, it leaves a little anxious knot in my stomach. The doctors have been saying that once Quinn is able to propel herself in her wheelchair, she should be able to get back to school. Especially since WMHS is pretty handicapable thanks to our efforts on behalf of Artie. Quinn is excited to be going back to school, which only makes me feel even guiltier. I don't want to lose the special bond we've been developing, but of course I never deserved it anyways.

Quinn has learned to read my moods by now. "What's up, Rachel? You don't look too happy." How do I admit this? "I'm just being selfish again. I don't want to share you. And when you go back to school, you'll be going back to your old life, too. You may not be an active cheerleader immediately upon your return, but you won't need me anymore. You'll graduate top of our class, and" – Oh my goodness, I don't want to make it real by saying it – "pretty soon you'll be gone to Yale anyways. I'll hate losing you." I said too much, I definitely said too much! What do I do now?

But Quinn is holding my hand, holding both my hands, and looking me straight in the eye. "Rachel, you won't ever lose me. You … I … Rachel, I'll always need you. Not for homework or vocal runs or pushing my chair or keeping my mum out of my hair or any of those amazing things you've done for me. Not even for constantly pushing me to be my best, even before we were even civil with each other. Rachel," – it must be my imagination that makes her look nervous – "I need _you_. Your exuberance and optimism, the way you live bigger than life itself. I need _this_." Her eyes point down to our joined hands, now shaking, then look up again, right into mine. How am I supposed to answer that? I suppose I should have seen it coming. In a way, I think I did, because I answer without even thinking. I lean down and place the lightest peck on those beautiful soft lips that have haunted me like forever.


End file.
